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The Zhuangzi book: a commentary and discussion thread

His cook was cutting up an ox for the ruler Wen Hui. Whenever he applied his hand, leaned forward with his shoulder, planted his foot, and employed the pressure of his knee, in the audible ripping off of the skin, and slicing operation of the knife, the sounds were all in regular cadence.

In this passage, Wen Hui's witnesses his cook cutting up an ox. He appeared to have a steady and consistent method. This passage is often interpreted as an important illustration of "Wu Wei" or effortless action in Daoism. People often mistake Wu Wei for literally doing nothing, so a passage like this can be quite useful in clarifying the concept. However, let's not necessarily pigeonhole the message here, let's check out the meaning on its own terms.

Movements and sounds proceeded as in the dance of 'the Mulberry Forest' and the blended notes of the King Shou.'

From what I've researched, the dance of the mulberry forest and the "blended notes of king shou" could be a reference to a music style known as "Xiánchí". This style is said to emphasize a balance of "yin" sounds and "yang" sounds, and spontaneouty. Much of this is like being in harmomy with the Dao, so it is possible that the chef's motions are as well.

The ruler said, 'Ah! Admirable! That your art should have become so perfect!' (Having finished his operation), the cook laid down his knife, and replied to the remark, 'What your servant loves is the method of the Dao, something in advance of any art.

Here the chef pretty much confirms it; his way of using the knife is in line with the Dao. How exactly might that be? He elaborates:

When I first began to cut up an ox, I saw nothing but the (entire) carcase. After three years I ceased to see it as a whole. Now I deal with it in a spirit-like manner, and do not look at it with my eyes. The use of my senses is discarded, and my spirit acts as it wills.

As time went on, his proficiency increased to the point that he no longer even needs to see the ox to cut it up. It began to come natural to him, like riding a bike or driving a car. Often when somebody has mastered a skill they can do it without even thinking about it, often referred to as being "in the zone".

It should be noted however, that this passage is not just about the art of cutting an art. It's actually a metaphor for "the way" as a whole and thus as I proceed in my commentaty I will keep this in mind.

Observing the natural lines, (my knife) slips through the great crevices and slides through the great cavities, taking advantage of the facilities thus presented.

What this means is that he observes what he already has to work with, and uses this when he cuts the ox to his advantage. Instead of relying on the exact same motions every time, he first observes the reality before him so that his following actions are in line with reality.

For a broader interpretation, Zhuangzi is using this story to describe a way in which you observe the present conditions before proceeding with your actions. Of course, anybody too caught on a specific "way to do things" may struggle to do this.

My art avoids the membranous ligatures, and much more the great bones. A good cook changes his knife every year; (it may have been injured) in cutting - an ordinary cook changes his every month - (it may have been) broken. Now my knife has been in use for nineteen years; it has cut up several thousand oxen, and yet its edge is as sharp as if it had newly come from the whetstone.

The membraneous ligatures and great bones could be seen as obstacles in his path which his knife cannot easily cut through. He avoids these things and hence has not replaced his knife in nineteen years because it hasn't been damaged by his attempting to force it through such obstacles.

More broadly, Zhuangzi is saying that if there is a way that gets something done that avoids unnecessary obstacles that could end up harming you, you should avoid those obstacles.

There are the interstices of the joints, and the edge of the knife has no (appreciable) thickness; when that which is so thin enters where the interstice is, how easily it moves along! The blade has more than room enough.

Since the edge of his knife is so thin, it easily moves into the small spaces of the ox's joints and has plenty of room.

In this metaphor, the knife represents his principle operation of action, and the path cutting through the ox is much like life itself. By the knife's edge being so thin that it can easily enter between the joints, Zhuangzi is saying not to make your actions so broad or perhaps rash that you bump right into obstacles in life. Instead, it could be more useful for your actions to be more restrained, thoughtful, and subtle, so that you can pass by such challenges in a free and easy manner.

Nevertheless, whenever I come to a complicated joint, and see that there will be some difficulty, I proceed anxiously and with caution, not allowing my eyes to wander from the place, and moving my hand slowly.

Sometimes in life, you simply cannot avoid a complicated obstacle. This is where you need to be very careful and cautious, and move slow. Some challenges are very complex and precarious. Any rash action may lead to unintended consequences.

Then by a very slight movement of the knife, the part is quickly separated, and drops like (a clod of) earth to the ground.

Oftentimes in such unavoidable challenges, it is not a big, rash action that solves it. Through being cautious, careful, and observant you can identify the path of least resistance and cleanly solve the problem through a subtle yet effective action.

Then standing up with the knife in my hand, I look all round, and in a leisurely manner, with an air of satisfaction, wipe it clean, and put it in its sheath.'

Having solved the problem with ease, you can then relax.

The ruler Wen Hui said, 'Excellent! I have heard the words of my cook, and learned from them the nourishment of (our) life.'

The metaphor was not lost on the king here, who acknowledges the broader application of his chef's methods. There again is that word, "nourishment". That is the theme of this chapter and the end result of "the way" described in this passage. By solving problems in a thoughtful, subtle, and collected manner you can avoid undue stress and harm. Stress is often said to be a factor in shortening lifespan, and that's not to mention the often disastrous side effects of responding too rashly to a challenge. In this light, it's easy to see how the chef's way can bring one nourishment.
 
When Gong-wen Xian saw the Master of the Left, he was startled, and said, 'What sort of man is this? How is it he has but one foot?

Gong-wen Xian spots a man with one foot. Thinking it peculiar, he questions it.

Is it from Heaven? or from Man?'

He then questions if it is natural or produced by man.

Then he added, 'It must be from Heaven, and not from Man. Heaven's making of this man caused him to have but one foot.

He concludes that it must be natural.

In the person of man, each foot has its marrow. By this I know that his peculiarity is from Heaven, and not from Man.

He almost seems to be saying here that the very peculiarity of having one foot is indicative of it being natural. This is an inversion of how people often think, where they see something very "odd" and call it "unnatural".

I interpret this passage as almost like an embrace of "weirdness". Instead of dismissing it as unnatural just because it is different, it's important to remember that it too springs from the course of the universe, better known in this text as the Dao. By keeping this in mind we can suspend our judgements and see the way that anomalies fit in with the whole and in a sense, compliment the "normal" things. After all, life may not be as interesting if not for the peculiar, the strange, and the bizarre.
 
A pheasant of the marshes has to take ten steps to pick up a mouthful of food, and thirty steps to get a drink, but it does not seek to be nourished in a coop. Though its spirit would (there) enjoy a royal abundance, it does not think (such confinement) good.'

This passage makes the point that in the natural world, animals will always choose freedom over security. If you take an undomesticated animal and open its cage, it will escape despite all of the nice things its captor may have provided it.

The wisdom here rings true for both the pheasant and its captor. It is not a good thing to keep a free spirit confined to what you think is safe for them, and it's also not always good to sacrifice too much freedom in the name of security. Tomorrow is never guaranteed, so better to embrace the endless possibilities in freedom than to confine yourself to a particular box. It may be harder, but ultimately it can be healthier. This applies both to physical and mental freedom.
 
When Lao Dan died, Qin Shi went to condole (with his son), but after crying out three times, he came out. The disciples said to him, 'Were you not a friend of the Master?' 'I was,' he replied, and they said, 'Is it proper then to offer your condolences merely as you have done?'

Qin Shi went to grieve the master Lao Dan, which is another name for Lao Tzu. He simply cried out a few times and left. Lao Dan's disciples were a bit puzzled that he would offer his condolences in such a brief manner. He goes on to explain-

He said, 'It is. At first I thought he was the man of men, and now I do not think so. When I entered a little ago and expressed my condolences, there were the old men wailing as if they had lost a son, and the young men wailing as if they had lost their mother.

It is worth noting that Lao Dan is the same master who wrote the Dao De Jing, the most well known Daoist text. This adds a bit of meaning to the passage, considering they are grieving the most well known Daoist master. This would explain the extreme nature of the grievers' reaction to his death.

In his attracting and uniting them to himself in such a way there must have been that which made them involuntarily express their words (of condolence), and involuntarily wail, as they were doing.

Qin Shi notes that there must have been something about Lao Dan that caused people to attach to him in this fashion.

And this was a hiding from himself of his Heaven (-nature), and an excessive indulgence of his (human) feelings; a forgetting of what he had received (in being born); what the ancients called the punishment due to neglecting the Heaven (-nature).

"Heavenly nature" refers to how you were the second you came to being within your mother's womb, before you were raised and given your beliefs and biases through sensory experiences from your family, friends, and society. People often get so tangled up in their beliefs that they fail to see things clearly and hence live life on the basis of false judgement.

When the Master came, it was at the proper time; when he went away, it was the simple sequence (of his coming). Quiet acquiescence in what happens at its proper time, and quietly submitting (to its ceasing) afford no occasion for grief or for joy.

Birth and death are both fundamentally part of the way, and they are not a true beginning or a true end. If you can accept this, then there is no need to grieve it. This is why Qin Shi reacted the way he did to Lao Dan's death.

The ancients described (death) as the loosening of the cord on which God suspended (the life).

This is a beautiful analogy for life and death. Notice how in this metaphor, the cord isn't broken. It's just loosened. You go from the more rigid world of form into the loose, formless, and ineffable realm of the Dao.
 
What we can point to is firewood that has been consumed; but the fire is transmitted (elsewhere), and we know not that it is over and ended.

The firewood is the various creatures and things that come and go in the ever-transforming world of forms. The fire is the Dao, the force from which these things derive their form from. Even after a particular form is gone, the source of that form lives on in its transformation. Those very changes in such form just showcase this fact.
 
Chapter 4: Man in the World, Associated with other Men


Much of the Zhuangzi book up to this point has dealt with situations that relate more towards our inner thought process. Even the chef and the ox was more of a solitary exploration, though it did provide useful insights for some situations involving others. Chapter 4 however, places us right amidst the turmoil of society. This makes it one of the most helpful chapters in this book.

While I'm sure many people would love to find some sustainable way to be a hermit in the forest, the reality is that most of us are living in society among others, and many of those people do not see things with clarity, leading them to commit harmful acts against themselves and others. In Chapter 4, Zhuangzi takes us out of the temple in the mountains, and sends us to the court of a tyrannical ruler. Can his mind-opening approach to life be helpful in a place like that? Let's find out.


Yan Hui went to see Zhongni, and asked leave to take his departure. 'Where are you going to?' asked the Master. 'I will go to Wei' was the reply. 'And with what object?'

Yan Hui tells Zhongni that he is leaving to Wei. Zhongni asks him what the purpose of the trip is.

'I have heard that the ruler of Wei is in the vigour of his years, and consults none but himself as to his course. He deals with his state as if it were a light matter, and has no perception of his errors. He thinks lightly of his people's dying; the dead are lying all over the country as if no smaller space could contain them; on the plains and about the marshes, they are as thick as heaps of fuel. The people know not where to turn to.

Seems the ruler of Wei is a bit of a know-it-all, and yet lets his state fall apart without taking any fault to it. While this passage deals with a ruler, it's safe to say that most people have ran into a person or two like this. It's just that in the case of a ruler, the consequences are more widespread.

I have heard you, Master, say, "Leave the state that is well governed; go to the state where disorder prevails." At the door of a physician there are many who are ill.

Zhongni's advice to Yan Hui is essentially same as the modern adage "don't try to fix what isn't broken", and the inverse of that.

I wish through what I have heard (from you) to think out some methods (of dealing with Wei), if peradventure the evils of the state may be cured.'

Yan Hui believes that employing Zhongni's teachings could help "cure" the problems in the way Wei is ruled, and therefore its tyrannical ruler. Zhongni himself is not so convinced.

Zhongni said, 'Alas! The risk is that you will go only to suffer in the punishment (of yourself)! The right method (in such a case) will not admit of any admixture. With such admixture, the one method will become many methods. Their multiplication will embarrass you. That embarrassment will make you anxious. However anxious you may be, you will not save (yourself).

Zhongni warns Yan Yui that there is a good risk of getting punished in this pursuit. He advises not to add anything extra to the "right method". If we are to go off the writing in this book up to this point, that "right method" is likely the way of following the Dao.

Now, the way of the Dao is could be described as an adaptive responsiveness that permits no bias or rigid attachments to beliefs and ideas to muddle its clear view of situations. It isn't any particular method.

If you add anything extra to the way of the Dao, likely that means you are attaching to a more fixed notion of how to do things, and this can lead you in circles and compromise your clear view of the situation. You may find yourself struggling to adapt to a changing situation, and in the case of trying to change a tyrant this is at the least embarassing and at worst dangerous.

The perfect men of old first had (what they wanted to do) in themselves, and afterwards they found (the response to it) in others. If what they wanted in themselves was not fixed, what leisure had they to go and interfere with the proceedings of any tyrannous man?

This is to say, "you cannot help others until you have already helped yourself". You have to know what you're doing and be steadfast in your efforts, otherwise your efforts to help others will be hampered by your own folly.

Moreover, do you know how virtue is liable to be dissipated, and how wisdom proceeds to display itself? Virtue is dissipated in (the pursuit of) the name for it, and wisdom seeks to display itself in the striving with others.

This is to say, that if you are being virtuous just so that others will see you as virtuous, then you are not being virtuous in a geniune manner. Furthermore, going out of the way to exhibit how wise you are to others often undermines the very wisdom itself... particularly the wisdom of the Dao, which is unconcerned with name and image.

In the pursuit of the name men overthrow one another; wisdom becomes a weapon of contention. Both these things are instruments of evil, and should not be allowed to have free course in one's conduct.

He warns that using wisdom to boost your name among others makes it more like a weapon to one-up people rather than a resource to better yourself, which is no good for anybody.

Supposing one's virtue to be great and his sincerity firm, if he do not comprehend the spirit of those (whom he wishes to influence); and supposing he is free from the disposition to strive for reputation, if he do not comprehend their minds;-- when in such a case he forcibly insists on benevolence and righteousness, setting them forth in the strongest and most direct language, before the tyrant, then he, hating (his reprover's) possession of those excellences, will put him down as doing him injury. He who injures others is sure to be injured by them in return. You indeed will hardly escape being injured by the man (to whom you go)!

This is one of the most important warnings in the Zhuangzi text. While the Daoist philosophy can be life-changing and there are many Daoists who are sincere in their ideas without employing them for reputation's sake, if you go around preaching Daoist ideas to everybody then some of them may resent you for it, assuming you are trying to come across as better than them and therefore slightling them. A tyrannical personality may particularly take issue with such a presentation, and in the worst case may even lash out of you.

This doesn't just apply to trying to convince a tyrant to chill out. It can happen in the workplace, at school, or even at home. So it's good to remember that you can walk the way without making a big show out of it, and people might respect you more for it.

Further, if perchance he takes pleasure in men of worth and hates those of an opposite character, what is the use of your seeking to make yourself out to be different (from such men about him)?

This is another warning. It isn't that some people might be slighted by preaching of the Daoist way, or making a show of practicing it. It's also a fact that many people are diametrically opposed to the Daoist mindset and surround themselves with people are often are. These people don't just have a few rigid beliefs or attachments... they are immersed in them, and will defend them with force in necessary. Thus, it wouldn't be wise to make a show of your lack of such things.

Before you have begun to announce (your views), he, as king and ruler, will take advantage of you, and immediately contend with you for victory. Your eyes will be dazed and full of perplexity; you will try to look pleased with him; you will frame your words with care; your demeanour will be conformed to his; you will confirm him in his views. In this way you will be adding fire to fire, and water to water, increasing, as we may express it, the evils (which you deplore).

When trying to change somebody in a position of power who is self-righteous and tyrannical, you are often stopped before you begin. Such people can often be very coercive, and as a result you may find yourself actually conforming to such a person's false beliefs and actually making them worse. This can even apply to a typical bully.

To these signs of deferring to him at the first there will be no end.

"Give an inch and they take a mile".

You will be in danger, seeing he does not believe you, of making your words more strong, and you are sure to die at the hands of such a tyrant.

In response to being essentially bullied into going along with a tyrant, you might become tempted to express your true views in a more aggressive manner. Even an aspiring sage trying to change the world can be pushed too far... and in the case of a tyrant this means you may be executed.

The broad lesson here seems to be that when dealing with rigid and difficult people you neither want to preach at them nor give into them out of fear. Either one of these approaches can lead to being a target in the end.

And formerly Jie killed Guan Long-feng, and Zhou killed the prince Bi-gan. Both of these cultivated their persons, bending down in sympathy with the lower people to comfort them suffering (as they did) from their oppressors, and on their account opposing their superiors. On this account, because they so ordered their conduct, their rulers compassed their destruction - such regard had they for their own fame.

Even those who would like to be in the good favor of the people and thus sympathize with them openly can meet punishment if those people are ruled by a tyrant. Sometimes you can do more good from the inside than from attempting to oppose the status quo. At least in one case you're still around to help the best you can.

(Again), Yao anciently attacked (the states of) Cong-qi and Xu-ao, and Yu attacked the ruler of Hu. Those states were left empty, and with no one to continue their population, the people being exterminated. They had engaged in war without ceasing; their craving for whatever they could get was insatiable.

In this demonstration Zhongni points out that rulers who crave more and more often drain their population and lose hold of their state. It's also a common Daoist teaching that insatiable striving can tax the body and lead to an earlier death, so perhaps it can be seen in this manner as well.

And this (ruler of Wei) is, like them, one who craves after fame and greater substance - have you not heard it? Those sages were not able to overcome the thirst for fame and substance - how much less will you be able to do so!

He points out that many sages have tried to change a tyrant's mind, and were unsuccessful. How then, is Yan Hui to help the ruler of Wei see things in their proper light?

Nevertheless you must have some ground (for the course which you wish to take); pray try and tell it to me.'

Having laid out his warnings, he asks Yan Hui his plan for this endeavor.

Yan Hui said, 'May I go, doing so in uprightness and humility, using also every endeavour to be uniform (in my plans of operation)?'

Yan Hui outlines a plan where he will be humble, proper, and use his every action towards his plan of changing the ruler of Wei's mind.

'No, indeed!' was the reply. 'How can you do so? This man makes a display of being filled to overflowing (with virtue), and has great self-conceit. His feelings are not to be determined from his countenance.

Zhongni objects that simply being humble and upright to show the tyrant the way wouldn't work, since the tyrant already believes himself to be overflowing with virtue of his own and is conceited. He also warns Yan Hui that he cannot assume how the tyrant feels from his demeanor alone. There is great vanity under the surface.

Ordinary men do not (venture to) oppose him, and he proceeds from the way in which he affects them to seek still more the satisfaction of his own mind.

The people do not try to oppose this tyrant out of fear, and so he believes he is right in what he does and even seeks more out of them for his own satisfaction.

He may be described as unaffected by the (small lessons of) virtue brought to bear on him from day to day; and how much less will he be so by your great lessons?

Every day has many small lessons to learn from, particularly if you are doing things in a way that isn't working. The consequenses of such mishandling are the lessons, but this tyrant isn't concerned by these consequences. Much less, the great lessons from a humble sage.

He will be obstinate, and refuse to be converted. He may outwardly agree with you, but inwardly there will be no self-condemnation - how can you (go to him in this way and be successful)?'

Zhongni makes a good point here. Sometimes selfish people who do not learn from their mistakes might come across as if they agree with you on certain virtues, but it's just an act so they can be liked and feel better about themselves. Inwardly they still feel like their way is the best way.

(Yan Hui) rejoined, 'Well then; while inwardly maintaining my straightforward intention, I will outwardly seem to bend to him. I will deliver (my lessons), and substantiate them by appealing to antiquity.


Yan Hui adjusts his plan to Zhongni's advice, proposing that he will be inwardly determined to change the tyrant yet outwardly subservient to him, and give lessons to the tyrant by "appealing to antiquity". This would be sort of like reading a verse from this very text to an argumentative person so that you could say it is ancient wisdom rather than criticism for them from you yourself.

Inwardly maintaining my straightforward intention, I shall be a co-worker with Heaven. When I thus speak of being a co-worker with Heaven, it is because I know that (the sovereign, whom we style) the son of Heaven, and myself, are equally regarded by Heaven as Its sons.

In the Daoist tradition, "the way" is often seen as the way of "heaven". He is saying that both him and the tyrant arose from this heaven or the Dao, and that by keeping his intent to set this ruler on the way of the Dao he is being a coworker to heaven.

And should I then, as if my words were only my own, be seeking to find whether men approved of them, or disapproved of them? In this way men will pronounce me a (sincere and simple) boy. This is what is called being a co-worker with Heaven.

If he tries to find out if men approved of his lessons or not by stating them as if they were merely from himself only, then they would consider him sincere but childish.

Outwardly bending (to the ruler), I shall be a co-worker with other men. To carry (the memorandum tablet to court), to kneel, and to bend the body reverentially - these are the observances of ministers. They all employ them, and should I presume not to do so? Doing what other men do, they would have no occasion to blame me. This is what is called being a fellow-worker with other men.

Yan Hui plans to carry out his duties for the tyrant of Wei as if he was any other ordinary joe in his state, relinquishing himself of any sort of blame incurred by his lessons he tries to give.

Fully declaring my sentiments and substantiating them by appealing to antiquity, I shall be a co-worker with the ancients. Although the words in which I convey my lessons may really be condemnatory (of the ruler), they will be those of antiquity, and not my own. In this way, though straightforward, I shall be free from blame. This is what is called being a co-worker with antiquity. May I go to Wei in this way, and be successful?'

When he tries to teach the tyrant the way, he will disguise his criticisms as ancient wisdom to bypass being condemned.

'No indeed!' said Zhongni. 'How can you do so? You have too many plans of proceeding, and have not spied out (the ruler's character). Though you firmly adhere to your plans, you may be held free from transgression, but this will be all the result. How can you (in this way) produce the transformation (which you desire)? All this only shows (in you) the mind of a teacher!'

Zhongni is still not convinced, pointing out that Yan Hui really knows nothing about this tyrant's character and yet has many convoluted plans on how to deal with him. He concludes that the most he will get from his endeavor is not to be condemned for his lessons, but nothing more. He will just be seen as a teacher rather than somebody to be inspired to change by. This is a good lesson to apply when dealing with people in everyday life; people rarely really take what you're saying in if they think you're trying to "teach" them.

Yan Hui said, 'I can go no farther; I venture to ask the method from you.'

Yan Hui finally concedes that he doesn't have a solid plan to change this tyrant.

Zhongni replied, 'It is fasting, (as) I will tell you. (But) when you have the method, will you find it easy to practise it? He who thinks it easy will be disapproved of by the bright Heaven.'

Zhongni states that "fasting" is the method for Yan Hui to convert this tyrant, and that it isn't an easy skill to practice.

Hui said, 'My family is poor. For months together we have no spirituous drink, nor do we taste the proscribed food or any strong-smelling vegetables;-- can this be regarded as fasting?'

Yan Hui takes this perhaps a bit too literally, asking if his literal fasting of food is the correct type he is talking about.

The reply was, 'It is the fasting appropriate to sacrificing, but it is not the fasting of the mind.'

Turns out that this is a 'fasting' of the mind, not the stomach.

'I venture to ask what that fasting of the mind is,' said Hui, and Zhongni answered, 'Maintain a perfect unity in every movement of your will, You will not wait for the hearing of your ears about it, but for the hearing of your mind. You will not wait even for the hearing of your mind, but for the hearing of the spirit.

Zhongni is saying to make every aspect of action towards his intention unified towards that intention. Instead of allowing his thoughts to interfere with his perception of the situation, he should just take in what is going on as it is, thus only receiving the "hearing of the spirit".

Let the hearing (of the ears) rest with the ears. Let the mind rest in the verification (of the rightness of what is in the will). But the spirit is free from all pre-occupation and so waits for (the appearance of) things. Where the (proper) course is, there is freedom from all pre-occupation; such freedom is the fasting of the mind.'

The ears and mind may have their own derivative notions of what is going on and the proper course to take, but the spirit isn't attached to anything except what is actually happening without anything filtering that reality. The pre-occupied thoughts of the mind can be blurred lenses of the reality the spirit recieves, and this blurring of reality can lead to misjudgement of something such as a tyrant's character. Thus, thoughts are the food that the mind must fast from in order to be free enough to take the proper course of action.

Hui said, 'Before it was possible for me to employ (this method), there I was, the Hui that I am; now, that I can employ it, the Hui that I was has passed away. Can I be said to have obtained this freedom from pre-occupation?'

In other words, the fasting of the mind requires you to diminish your biased ego, notions, or sense of prescribed identity to the point that it as if you have "passed away". Yan Hui having achieved this level of ego-reduction asks if he is now free from pre-occupations.

The Master replied, 'Entirely. I tell you that you can enter and be at ease in the enclosure (where he is), and not come into collision with the reputation (which belongs to him). If he listen to your counsels, let him hear your notes; if he will not listen, be silent.

This is to say that with the fasting of the mind Yan Hui will be able to be at ease even in the palace of a tyrant without challenging his reputation. Zhongni advises him to pick and choose when to give the tyrant lessons by being adaptive and flexible. In modern terms, "time and place".

Open no (other) door; employ no other medicine; dwell with him (as with a friend) in the same apartment, and as if you had no other option, and you will not be far from success in your object.

Furthermore he advises Yan Hui to even be a friend to the tyrant as if this was his only option in life as he sticks steadfastly to the fasting of his mind from pre-occupied thoughts.

Not to move a step is easy; to walk without treading on the ground is difficult. In acting after the manner of men, it is easy to fall into hypocrisy; in acting after the manner of Heaven, it is difficult to play the hypocrite. I have heard of flying with wings; I have not heard of flying without them. I have heard of the knowledge of the wise; I have not heard of the knowledge of the unwise.

People who profess what they think is the one and only true way often fall into hypocrisy, but since the way of following the Dao presumes no single "right" way, it is difficult to be hypocritical. He likens such hypocrisy to "flying without wings" and "the knowledge of the unwise". In other words, it's talking without saying really anything at all.

Look at that aperture (left in the wall); the empty apartment is filled with light through it. Felicitous influences rest (in the mind thus emblemed), as in their proper resting place.

Felicitous means "well suited to the circumstance". Felitous influences are inherently in our mind and rest there, so when we clear our mind of pre-occupied thoughts it can figure out the right thing to do at the proper time and place. Sort of like how when a window isn't dirty the sun can shine through without any impediment and light up the room.

Even when they do not so rest, we have what is called (the body) seated and (the mind) galloping abroad.

Even when the thoughts in your mind are galloping around, you can still keep your body "seated" and ground yourself. This could be done by simply sitting, shutting your eyes, and taking deep breaths.

The information that comes through the ears and eyes is comprehended internally, and the knowledge of the mind becomes something external: (when this is the case), the spiritual intelligences will come, and take up their dwelling with us, and how much more will other men do so! All things thus undergo a transforming influence.

This is where it gets cool. Zhongni (therefore Zhuangzi) is saying that when you can properly practice fasting of the mind and clear your pre-occupied thoughts away, the outer world and inner world become as if they are one in the clarity of our perception. This unity can bring about spiritlike perceptiveness and way of being that will attract other people to you without you even striving to do so because you are seeing and acting in harmony with clear reality. This can have a transformative effect on your environment, and eventually the world as a ripple-effect takes place. This is quite a radical message if you think about it, but it also makes sense considering that every viral trend started with one person and spread to the rest of the world.

This was the hinge on which Yu and Shun moved; it was this which Fu-xi and Ji-qu practised all their lives: how much more should other men follow the same rule!'

Yu and Shun are former rulers in China who were noted for their compassionate characters and resourceful nature. Fu-xi is actually considered a Daoist diety in some traditions. Zhongni attributes their achievements to following the way, keeping their thoughts centered on reality rather than wandering about from one thing to another. This way is also referred to as the "hinge" of the Dao.
 
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